


Heartbreak

by Resistance



Category: Hockey RPF
Genre: Angst, Gen, Heartbreak, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-09
Updated: 2014-05-09
Packaged: 2018-01-24 04:18:35
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 673
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1591445
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Resistance/pseuds/Resistance
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's happened thousands of times, but it's worse when it happens to you.</p><p>You can choose the players this applies to. It's very universal.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Heartbreak

**Author's Note:**

  * For [derpyjeffcarter (skinner_girl)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/skinner_girl/gifts).



He looked around the room and tried everything he could to keep an even expression on his face. But how could he? This was all his fault. Everyone was sitting there, in their own private hell, and it was all his fault. How did he have the right to look even one of them in the eye? He’d let them all down. This was supposed to be their year. They’d show them all. They wouldn’t be at the bottom forever, he promised. They’d fight with everything they had to get back to the top where they belonged. He’d promised that. 

And he’d failed. 

It wasn’t becoming for a grown man to cry, but that’s all he wanted to do just then, cry. This season was going to be different; it was supposed to be different. They were—It didn’t matter now. They hadn’t. He hadn’t. He’d failed them all. He didn’t deserve to wear the jersey that was now in a heap beside him. He didn’t deserve to be called the teammate of these men that had fought so hard for every goal, every minute, every night.

He wished he had some inspirational words for them. He’d had them before the game, he’d known what to say then. They were a team, they were damn god at what they did, they could beat anything any team could throw at them. But now? Those words seemed hollow and empty, false platitudes that meant nothing when he couldn’t deliver. He wanted to tell them that he’d see them all next year, but he knew that wasn’t true. Some faces would be back, some…. maybe even himself…. would be gone. If that was for the better or the worse, he wasn’t sure. 

And then his eyes fell on him. Him. After all they’d been through together…. letting him down was the worst of all. He could read every expression that he was trying to hide, every thought he was trying not to think, all the same things he himself was going through. And his heart broke all over again. If he had been better, they would be excitedly planning for the next game and then next. But he hadn’t. And they weren’t. And next season, would they even be teammates? Would they be anything? He heard that distance was the death knell for a lot of relationships. Part of him was sure that wasn’t the case with them but part of him wondered if every other person that had experienced it had thought the very same thing. He didn’t want to know. He’d find out soon enough. One way or another.

He watched as teammates started to leave, mostly one at a time, some talking on cellphones, others pressing silence on calls they didn’t want to deal with. There was one thing worse that not getting any sympathy and that was getting sympathy from someone that had a game to play tomorrow. He looked across the room at him again. He wished he could smile for him, he usually made him smile, but today, he couldn’t even pretend. Just as well, he wasn’t getting one back. 

He made the first move, stood up and crossed the room, stepping carefully around the logo, despite the fact that they couldn’t have any worse luck than they had. He banished the thought as soon as it occurred to him. In truth they could and he didn’t want to jinx it. “Ready to go?” He asked. It was the first words he’d spoken since he left the ice. He watched him nod, but he didn’t speak. There wasn’t anything left to say. He headed for the car.

He took one last look around the room, wondering how many new faces he’d see next season, wondering if they’d all be new right along with the colors of the paint and the logo on the floor. Time would tell, worrying wouldn’t change a thing no matter how much he wished it would. 

But he’d pray to the hockey gods, just in case.


End file.
